


The Small Moon

by depresane



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Forgotten Realms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Consensual Blood Drinking, DnD gods, Fanon, Fictional Religion & Theology, Gods, Implied abusive relationships, Non-Consensual Vampire Turning, Rating May Change, Vampire Turning, Vampires, dawn cataclysm, faerun gods, impending doom, kinda off-screen but it's still there, mentioned death, religious doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27696845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depresane/pseuds/depresane
Summary: There is one problem with DnD vampires, which held me back from creating one. Maybe this time, I can do this.





	The Small Moon

Ninodel knew she would be outrun. The Temple of Art and Passion cut the night sky with its silhouette the size of the moon. Even if she managed to reach it, its clerics would not open the gates in time.  
A predator was not panting and his shoes did not squeak.  
Five yards between them.  
Her rushing thoughts formed a prayer: "Lady Firehair, I beseech you! Aren't you supposed to condemn destroyers? Turn your eyes on me, I was tricked by a dismantling corruption! And now he wishes to twist my mind, just like his had been tainted! Break the cycle, o Art Adorner!"  
Four yards.  
"If you knew he played a role, why haven't you warned me?"  
The rhythm of her footsteps slowed down.  
"Are you silent out of shame?"  
Three yards.  
"Are you asleep?!"  
Two yards.  
"Please!"  
One yard.  
Ninodel yelled, "Inept idols, all of you!"

Sune descended in a hurry, crumpling her white dress to lift its end. But the distressed half-elf was lying motionless on cobblestone pavement. She sat beside her, examined her neck, and pulled her eyelids upwards.  
Curly ginger hair fell like a curtain, hiding her face and Ninodel's head. Minutes passed as she was waiting for the victim to awaken.

Lathander had spoken to her clearly. "All is lost in this city. No use wasting our energy on the individuals who might not even improve themselves. I shall purge the corruption. 'Tis a matter of days now."  
Sune decided not to persuade him, to respect his grief for Tyche. Instead, she took it upon herself to rescue citizens while Murdane negotiated.  
Unfortunately, with Tyche gone and Tymora not yet born, Sune's mistakes turned into failures.

Ninodel grimaced. Her half open eyes recognised the goddess. She tried to speak but her throat did not recover from screaming.  
Sune touched the half-elf's temple. "Can you sit up?" She continued after the brown-haired woman looked at her from an equal perspective. "Before thirst clouds your rational thinking... Bite with one fang, retreat it, and then drink. Always. Every single time. Do you understand?"  
She nodded.  
Sune grabbed her hair and pushed it behind her back. "Show me that you do."  
Ninodel trembled, her hands suspended in front of her in an awkward pose, her thumb twitching.  
"If you do as I said, I will be fine. Take a sip; 'tis my apology."  
Sune knew what many folks deduce from tales: the first drink seals the transformation. She hoped her divine blood would influence the process.  
Ninodel shut her eyes, weeping. She reached her hand, stroked the pale neck, wrote with her middle finger, "forgive me," and leant forward. Her stomach ached, sending an impulse to her lower jaw; she needed a second to resist it. Finally, she bit and drank as commanded. The stomach demanded more; her sucking became similar to giving a hickey.  
Sune looked at her, her eyes strained because of the angle. "Already used to the taste?"  
Ninodel paused. "Uncle removed a broken tooth once." Her low voice still required rest.  
"Ah, that makes sense. Go on, I can handle one more moment."  
The half-elf resumed gently. The stomach twisted but she ignored it, with a hum in her throat. An unknown warmth made her shiver, flushing across her muscles. She stopped right before Sune could open her mouth to speak.  
The goddess tore a strip off her own dress and pressed it against the wound.  
Ninodel wiped her tears away. "Are you alright, my Lady?"  
She blinked. "Are you?"  
She tensed her lips, analysing. Her memories seemed fine. She still felt sorry for Sune. Her cold limbs moved with ease. Her stomach was quiet. "I am alright."

***

She rushed through the main room, knelt and touched a younger half-elf, waking them up. "Elladyr," she called.  
The relative moved away, gripping their quilt close. "By Araleth, your eyes!"  
"I know. Trust me, I know. Are you paying attention?"  
"No?? Promise you won't feed on me!"  
"I will not. Now listen."  
They quickly nodded a couple of times.  
"Lathander plans to destroy our hometown. Pack up and flee. I will also escape but on my own, for the reasons you can see."  
"Aye." Elladyr let go of their quilt, staring at it with their eyebrows lowered. "Incompetent demigods."  
"Oy. I thought so, too. But the truth is more complex than that."  
"Is it now?"  
"Lady Fate is dead. And Firehair did try to help me."  
They gazed back to Ninodel. "Tyche...?"  
"We're been forced into ill times, sweet sib. The only way is forward."

Window shutters stayed closed. Elladyr loaded their last bag onto a small cart. They hugged Ninodel, still wary of her vampiristic nature. Then, the siblings exchanged bracelets; her silver chain burnt her skin so she gave it away with a relief; their copper ring, with an arrow engraved and thin emeralds serving as its fletching, fit just right on her wrist.  
"Be safe," Elladyr whispered before leaving.  
"You too," replied Ninodel, covering herself with their quilt.


End file.
